


you are my sin

by olivestark



Series: Imo's summer ficathon [1]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 01:22:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivestark/pseuds/olivestark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They crept into the night and kept their secrets. They were silently betrothed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you are my sin

**Author's Note:**

> For my lovely friend Imo's summer fic challenge that I will hopefully be able to do every week. This has been one of my favourite to write.

Her native language lingered on his tongue, and she lingered on his mind. His fingertips brushed through her hair softly, carefully; he felt everything. The flowers he braided into her soul bloomed like she had given them the gift of life, delighted to exist in her presence, beside her, because of her. The stray hairs danced like fairies in the twilight. It made Athelstan’s breath ragged, he needed her… but he swore an oath. But the oath never anticipated her. His heart rate uneven, he tried so hard to concentrate on the task in hand, but they were so close… he, well he couldn’t help it… he ran a hand along her neck… down her shoulder… he gulped, she was like silk under his touch, he wanted more… she suddenly shivered, so he stopped.

“I’ve finished.” He coughed, choking on his words. “Would you like a look?”

She picked up her dress and walked towards the water, delicately taking the braid that snaked down her back to her shoulder. She smiled, eyes twinkling like the reflection of the water.

“Thank you, Athelstan. It’s beautiful.”

 His stomach was hit with butterflies. He wanted to badly to hold her, to kiss her lips and to taste her skin. The moon gave the perfect contrast to her milky white skin, a girl of 16, yet exquisite in every sense of the word.

He almost didn’t notice her hand slip into his own. Fingers were interlocking and eyes were flickering with nervousness. He placed a hand to her chest, he couldn’t help it, her heart was racing, but she showed no signs of nervousness. She pressed her forehead to his, unspoken words went back and forth between them and they listened and understood and agreed.

“Gyda…”

“They won’t know.” Her voice laced around his throat and pulled him in close. “Nobody will know.”

“I swore an oath.”

“Your God does not look here, Priest. I promise to be careful.”

He gulped. His hand was roaming up her leg, unintentionally. She exposed her neck and he breathed in her scent.

“You are… a goddess of light, and love, and beauty. You are my sun, my moon, my earth, my fire, my water.” He was precise. He placed his lips along her collarbone, his stubble scratching slightly. A moan caught in her throat. “You are Heaven and Hell. Valhalla sent you for me. Oh, forgive me Father for I have sinned.”

He leaned forward onto her. His hands were the raiders, her body was the land. She was a sin he wanted to commit, cursing to his God repeatedly in the feeble candle light in the darkness.

_If it’s a choice, she is the ocean and she has drowned me, and I let her._

They were quiet, nimble, lustful. Flushing in pleasure, they fit like a jigsaw. Her slender legs wrapped around his waist, their ecstasy was all that mattered.

 

* * *

 

It became a routine. They’d wait until her brother and parents were sleeping, and they would elope, and lie in each other’s presence until the early hours.

_No one will know._ She reassured him. _This is want we want. I love you, Athelstan._

That’s what he told himself on the morning of the sacrifice. The knowing smile of the old Earl’s daughter made his head ache with mistakes and regrets.

_No one will know._

He tried to forget. It didn’t matter. Gyda was his, he was Gyda’s. But the silence of the velvet night had driven him crazy. Crystal tears and whispering screams. It was the night he most had feared and it jumped on him like a monster hidden in bushes. The confessor, the priest.

_We had a promise._

The cold looks and words stung and ripped them both. They said nothing. They had a deal. No longer a promise – no, that was too romantic – a deal. They were in love, but said nothing.

_Where is your God now?_

I don’t know.

It became too late. Crime must be paid for.

 

* * *

 

_If I had a choice, I’d have brought her home the first night. Stole a boat and ran away. But death has stolen that dream and ran away. I sinned against her and I can never have her back. A Mother mourns but a lover deals with the emptiness._

_It was me and her against the world, against the Gods, against all odds. Until I switched sides. I’m sorry. I’ll pray for us, Gyda. I’ll pray for you back into my arms, for the flowers in your hair and the stories of mountains of gold and silver. It was my betrayal and not your punishment, but you suffered. Trust is something we did not anticipate, even though we are one. I’m sorry._

_You are a goddess of light and love and beauty. You are my sun, my moon, my earth, my fire, my water. You are Heaven and Hell._

_Valhalla has you now. Never forgive me Father, for I have sinned._

_I had a choice, and I was too late. Now I have neither._

 


End file.
